


A Thousand years' worth of Waiting

by fandomsrulequeen



Series: Merthur Drabbles [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Rises Again, Immortal Merlin, M/M, One-Shot, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 18:37:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12776988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomsrulequeen/pseuds/fandomsrulequeen
Summary: After sending Arthur off, Merlin recounts life until he and the Once and Future King reunite again, nearly a thousand years later.





	A Thousand years' worth of Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first Merlin (let alone Merthur) fanfiction. I ship Merthur with my life, and I am scared that this would officially screw up the entire ship. Please leave constructive comments and/or criticism, and try to enjoy my work. I hope it's not crappy, so let's get on with it!

_ Heart beats fast _

_ Colours and promises _

_ How to be brave _

_ How can I love when I’m afraid to fall? _

 

A few hundred years after Camelot fell, Merlin stopped trying to see the world. Everything has blurred together, and he could no longer differentiate days from weeks, weeks from months, months from years. He stopped trying to pretend that everything was alright, because honestly there was nothing to wait for, so why care about the time? His King was dead. His best friends Gwaine and Lancelot were dead. Percival was dead. Leon was dead. Elyan was dead. Gwen was dead. Morgana was dead. Gaius was dead. His parents were dead. Heck, even Kilgharrah had moved on now.

 

Everyone he cared about for were dead.

 

Initially, there were tears, anguish, heartbreak. He had spent the first few weeks mourning for Arthur when he failed to reach lake Avalon in time. He had finally mustered enough courage to go back to Camelot to face Gwen, not knowing how to tell his friend that her husband was dead. After that, people just seemed to die, one by one. Leon and Percival, the last two members of the Round Table died when their patrol was ambushed in the forest by bandits who apparently wielded magic. Gaius died of old age, passing peacefully in his sleep five years after Arthur died. Gwen died from poisoning from one of the last supporters of Uther Pendragon's hatred for magic. Merlin had tried everything that he could to save Gwen, his last living friend, but his efforts proved futile and Gwen succumbed to the poison five hours later. She died after fifteen years of reign, and the country mourned their fair and just Queen Guinevere for many weeks. Merlin had cried his last tears as his friend passed into Avalon, leaving him officially alone.

 

The Saxons soon invaded Camelot and the kingdom quickly fell to its feet as foreigners took over what was once a great and prosperous kingdom. No matter how hard Merlin had fought with his magic, the numbers were overwhelming and he barely managed to escape.

 

That was the last major thing Merlin had ever done with his magic. Ten years after that, when the once great Camelot was now nothing more than a recount, a story, Merlin had his last conversation with Kilgharrah. He had summoned his dragon, advisor and friend before him in a forest clearing that reminded him too much of the meadow he would summon his dragon friend during Camelot. Kilgharrah had told him that Aithusa had unfortunately died since he was crippled beyond repair after spending two years trapped in an overly small cage, and from the grief from losing Morgana. He himself was coming to an end, having lived for more than three thousand years. Merlin had begged Kilgharrah not to leave him, not like how everyone else of his friends left him, but all the wise dragon replied with was a familiar cryptic response and a wry smile, “If only it were that simple, Young Warlock. If only.” Then, he flew away for the last time, and Merlin never saw him again. He did, however, feel a certain magical pull fade away from his heart a week after that conversation and knew that he truly had no connections with anything anymore - be it magical or non-magical. His magic still flowed through his being, but he seldom used it anymore, except for the most trivial things.

 

_ I have died, everyday, waiting for you _

 

He made a vow that he would be attached to no one after this, for fear of the heartache brought from seeing another person he cared for die. He closed in upon himself, stopped trying to merge into the world and instead observed from the sidelines. 

 

The only thing he held onto was Kilgharrah’s words when he left his closest friend at Lake Avalon after he died. 

 

“When Albion’s greatest time of need emerges, Arthur would rise again.”

 

Arthur would rise again.

 

Merlin held onto this statement like a lifetime. He watched as six hundred years later, World War I came, hoping that Arthur would rise. Of course, there was no longer any Albion, instead it was renamed England, but the name did not matter did it? Merlin had hoped not. But as the whispers of war died along with the brave soldiers, and still no Arthur, Merlin felt his heart shrivelling a little more.

 

_ Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years. _

 

What he had never failed to admit was that, ever since Day One in Camelot, Merlin had fallen heads-over-heels with his blonde prat of a prince. The way Arthur used to laugh, the weird faces he would make at the weirdest timings, his arrogance concealing the amazing man beneath him ... Merlin had not forgotten any of them despite the fact that it had been over a hundred and ten years after Arthur had died. He had vowed never to love anyone again, instead choosing to remember all of Arthur’s traits so that it would be at the back of his hand.

 

_ I’ll love you for a thousand more. _

 

He never thought if Arthur had ever felt the same back to him, since he had married Gwen and had spent the rest of his time proclaiming his love for Gwen. Merlin endured the way his heart had broke every time Arthur talked about Gwen or showed her some form of public affection. 

 

However, no matter what happens, Merlin would never stop loving Arthur. Not even if he lived an eternity waiting for his King. He lived like that for another two hundred years, memorising Arthur’s features, hoping that he would not wake up one day not remembering the way Arthur looked, what Arthur laughed at, or how ridiculously badass he looked whenever he swung a sword.

 

_ I will be brave _

_ I will not let anything, take away _

_ What's standing in front of me _

_ Every breath, every hour has come to this _

 

Merlin hadn’t felt anything other than numb after eight hundred years of living as boy who looked barely out of his nineteens although he felt as though he was older than time itself. He met Shakespeare, watched all his plays, and took a liking to Romeo and Juliet. He met Leonardo Da Vinci, who painted him a portrait which he had kept. He also met Aristotle, and helped the guy come up with half of his theories. He travelled around the world and sailed with Christopher Colombus. This might have seemed exciting to others, but to Merlin he might have accepted these small things, but he never lingered too long to become friends. He had considered trying to find another sword forged from dragon’s breath to end his eternal torture, but for the sake of Arthur, he would be brave. He would face the challenges just to see the day where Arthur rises again. This became his motivation every time he felt down and having his thoughts drifting to dangerous waters where he could try killing himself.

 

Every breath he took, every hour he wasted or burned, Merlin kept his eyes as a lookout, hoping to find a familiar mob of blonde hair amidst the crowds.

 

By the time Victorian England rolled in, Merlin used his magic (still strong as ever after hundreds of years even though the world ceased to know it other than fictional, making Merlin feel even more alone than ever) and created a red and gold butterfly. Camelot colours. Arthur’s colours. He let it fly off, and cast an enchantment on it that when Arthur returns to the living world, it flies back to him to let him know. He let it go, but days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and still no butterfly emerged. Merlin never forgot about the insect but put it aside.

 

_ One step closer _

 

World War II was a disaster. Nearly every country took part in it, and nearly every country wasn’t spared from destruction. Merlin was certain that Arthur would rise in this time of need. After all, wasn’t Engl- Albion falling apart now? All the gunpowder, bombs and landmines had definitely did a bad number on the country. He peeled his eyes open, desperately looking for Arthur, hoping that he was somewhere amongst the throngs of soldiers. He felt that thrill of being one step closer whenever he saw blonde hair, but there would always be something wrong: the wrong eye shape, eye colour, face shape, some with too much a stubble, some with lips too flat…

 

And he could not feel that pull in magic, that pull that reassures him that this man was his other half, his other side of the coin, his Destiny.

 

Merlin’s world stuttered to a stop when World War II ended with no traces of the butterfly or signals that Arthur returned. He felt like crying, except he had no more tears. He wanted to drown in pity, except he had no more feelings, leaving only numbness. He wanted to scream and shout, but had no more energy to do it. 

 

He just felt numb.

 

The Cold War honestly did not affect much of England (Oh great, he was really starting to think Albion as England now?), but Merlin still felt that sense of hope that he would see Arthur again. The hope was extinguished as fast as it came, because honestly? Merlin started wondering if the words Kilgharrah said was just meant to comfort him. There was only a sliver of hope left, and Merlin honestly had no idea if he wanted to tug on that sliver of hope.

 

_ I have died everyday, waiting for you _

_ Darling, don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years _

_ I'll love you for a thousand more _

 

He watched science launch into action. He watched as the first computers were introduced. He watched as mobile phones, laptops and watches took off into the market. He watched as the Generation X (himself included) began.

 

By this time Merlin had enough money to buy Camelot if he wanted, but he could not bear buying a large living quarters to feel cold and alone, so he used his magic and made a snug wooden cottage of three stories near the Lake of Avalon (which had shrunk considerably but still there). The 21st century Merlin was a shell of what he used to be. What was once a happy-go-lucky manservant of Prince Arthur Pendragon was now an immortal shell walking the earth. Yes, he still waited for Arthur, but it was reduced to nothing more than a dream and a miracle, and Merlin had stopped believing in miracles a thousand years ago. 

_ And all along I believed, I would find you _

_ Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years _

_ I'll love you for a thousand more _

 

And one day, Merlin lived his dream, his dream becoming reality.

 

Exactly one thousand, four hundred and sixty three years after Arthur died, the King of Camelot rose from the waters of Avalon.

 

It was a normal enough day. Merlin was cloaked in his ageing spell, looking like a sixty-year old sitting on the porch, writing another novel of his while gazing at the mystical lake when he saw it. A red and gold butterfly. 

 

Camelot’s butterfly that he released nearly one hundred and twenty eight years before. And it was circling the lake. For a moment, Merlin was dumbfounded; surely not now, Britain didn't seem to be on the verge of collapse? But then reality caught up when he realized that  _ Arthur was rising, the Once and Future King, other side of his coin was  _ rising. 

 

Merlin slammed his laptop shut, and in the first time since one thousand years he smiled a genuine smile as he raced out of his house towards the lake. The magical pull that he had not felt forever was so strong it was almost tangible, and his ageing spell wore off as he ran, silver hair streaking back into raven black, wrinkles fading to reveal smooth, pale skin as Merlin raced into the waters of the lake.

 

The magic was so strong Merlin felt like choking. He hadn’t felt this strong of magic since...forever. As his eyes scanned the water, we felt a foreign feeling bubble in his chest - happiness and hope. It had been so long since he felt that, and he was gasping at the sheer intensity of it when Merlin finally -  _ finally - _ saw his King.

 

The Once and Future King floated above the murky waters of Avalon, lying serenely on his back for a moment in the water, arms folded neatly across his chest just as Merlin had left him that day a thousand years ago. Then, suddenly, his eyes opened and he jerked awake. The serenity shattered as he frantically flailed about in the water, trying to stay afloat as he swam his way towards shore. Merlin ran all the way to Arthur and Arthur (to his credit) turned. In an instant, blue met blue and the next moment, merlin had his arms tight around Arthur’s chest and Arthur had his arms around Merlin as well. 

 

After a long moment, Merlin stepped back and observed Arthur. He looked the same - deep strong jaws, soft blonde hair, aqua blue eyes and chainmail and sword. Merlin felt his love for Arthur intensify as a dazzling smile broke across his face and he swiftly went in for another hug from Arthur, murmuring the words he uttered so long ago, yet so familiar:

 

“You’re late, clotpole.”

 

Arthur smiled, leaning back as he studied Merlin, before replying fondly, “So are you, idiot.”

 

As the former king and the immortal warlock rejoiced, Merlin realised that the prophecy had been true. He was all that was left of Albion, and when he was on the verge of losing all hope of the world, Arthur reappeared in his life, a thousand and four hundred and sixty three years later.

 

Time has brought Arthur to Merlin, and they could finally be together, forever.

 

The moment was quickly ruined again by Arthur who stared at Merlin incredulously and spluttered, “ _ Mer _ lin, just WHAT exactly are you wearing?!”

 

**_Three months later…_ **

 

Merlin entered the cottage, arms full of shopping bags from the groceries store as he kicked the door open, causing Arthur to jump inside.

 

“For the love of god  _ Mer _ lin, You’re worse than an elephant!” He squawked as his sorcerer dumped the bags on the kitchen counter, humming to himself. Merlin haphazardly arranged the bags before walking over to Arthur, pulling him in for a peck on the lips before grinning cheekily. “You love it when I do that prat.” He stated. “Don’t deny it. And your snoring is ten times worse than that.” 

 

And Arthur snorted loudly before proceeding to argue that  _ no, he does NOT snore _ , but was cut off when Merlin grabbed him and leaned in to kiss Arthur fully on the lips. After that, there were vague memories of awkwardly moving to the bedroom and lots of making out and pleasure, but as they lay in a sweaty pile on the bed a while later, an as Merlin snuggled into his King’s chest and got comfortable, he realized that his destiny was complete.

 

He had waited for a thousand years, and he was finally reunited with his other half that makes him whole.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So how was it? Good? Bad? Terrible? Horrible? Please leave a comment! (And a kudos if you can:))


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